


A Case of Mistaken Identity

by TabbyCat33098



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Schmoop, dark pasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabbyCat33098/pseuds/TabbyCat33098
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco meets a gorgeous stranger while studying at the campus library, and at that moment, his life is turned upside down. Could this stranger teach Draco to trust again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I first posted this story like 3 and a half years ago, on a total spontaneous whim, knowing only that this story would contain "Drarry, long, romance, drama." Doing so was a mistake, because I ended up losing motivation/inspiration a few chapters in and never finished it. Also, because I didn't really think up a plot, there were a lot of inconsistencies and plot holes and things that just didn't make sense.
> 
> So I'm trying to finish and fix this fic now. I did retcon and rewrite a lot of what I'd already published, so I would recommend rereading this from the beginning. I'm currently anticipating a total of ~15 chapters, 9.5 of which I already have written, and my goal is to have this story fully written and published before the end of the year.
> 
> One final note: ACOMI is set in a Cambridge-eqsue university in a city that isn't London. I've tried to adhere to British uni customs as well as I could, but since I'm not British I can't be confident I've succeeded. I'm sorry if I've slipped up unknowingly.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are adored, and I hope this doesn't suck as much as I sometimes think it does. Happy reading! :)

Draco briefly glanced away from his work in irritation as a shrill scream resounded through the library, but when the commotion seemed to have no outcome, he paid it no mind and continued with his research. It was going well enough until a rugged brunette careened around the corner where Draco's worktable was located, glancing around frantically while he tried to catch his breath. Finally, his gaze settled on Draco, who had been staring rather unashamedly at the man, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Hide me, please," the man all but begged, a wild look in his eyes.

"Why?" Draco asked petulantly, just to be contrary. He wanted nothing more to return to his work, and this stranger was quite effectively putting paid to that plan.

"Because I'm begging you to," the man said rather unnecessarily. He glanced over his shoulder, and Draco heard the sound of nearing footsteps. "Look, I'll owe you one, I'll buy you a meal or something. Please."

Well, Draco wasn't one to pass over an opportunity to have someone in his debt. He sighed. "Get under the table," he said, resigned.

"Thanks," the brunette gasped as he dove under the table. Draco rearranged his legs to hide the other man in their shadow before returning to the heavy tome before him.

Seconds later, two girls came sprinting around the corner as well. They peered around the quiet library, obviously looking for something, and walked to Draco when they saw him.

"Excuse me, have you seen Harry Potter come through here?" the shorter one asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Who?"

The taller one puffed her chest in indignance and angrily opened her mouth to say something, but her friend stopped her before she could by placing a hand on her arm.

"Tall, brown hair, glasses, wearing a gray shirt?" she listed, eyeing Draco hopefully. The taller one stared at him with rapt attention as well. He suppressed a shudder at the gleam in her eyes.

"Oh, him," Draco said, feigning remembrance. He pointed in the direction of a random bookshelf. "I think he was headed that way." The girls thanked him hastily and sped off. Draco kept his eyes on them, waiting for them to realize the man they were looking or was nowhere to be found.

The man under the desk-Potter, Draco presumed-attempted to rise, but Draco pushed him down. "Not yet," he murmured, able to see from his vantage point that the girls were headed back their way.

"Slipped back around the corner the moment you two left," he said breezily as the two girls neared his desk. They nodded wordlessly and left the way they'd came, hopefully for good.

Still, better safe than sorry. Draco forced Potter to remain still for another minute before signalling to him that the coast was clear. Potter slowly crawled out and stood. He stretched to relieve his cramped muscles and brushed off the dust his legs had collected. Draco took advantage of his obvious distraction to assess him.

The man was not sore on the eyes, that much was true. His eyes were a piercing green, his nose straight and narrow, his muscles clearly defined. His bronze skin only completed the tantalizing image. Still, his hair was an absolute mess, and his round, wire frame spectacles looked constantly on the verge of slipping down his nose.

Still, Draco felt oddly attracted to the man, drawn to him as though by a magnetic force. His mouth seemed suddenly dry, and he had some difficulty thinking of something to say.

"Quite the celebrity, aren't you?" Draco said drily, hoping his voice didn't sound as hoarse as he imagined it did.

Potter laughed nervously, shifting his weight from side to side, and said, "Harry Potter." He held out his hand to Draco.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco responded warily, still unsettled by how much the man had affected him. He took Harry's hand and shook it firmly, pleasantly surprised to receive a firm grip in reply.

Harry laughed and shoved both his hands into his pockets. "I seem to owe you a favor," he said. "How about lunch? It's about that time, anyway."

Draco's stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. "Lunch sounds wonderful," he admitted, before setting about clearing his workspace and replacing all his papers in his bookbag.

"Great," Potter said in response, grinning. For some unfathomable reason, Draco found himself smiling back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The walk to the canteen was an awkward one, as neither male knew how to strike up a conversation. But luckily, once they arrived at their destination, the warm atmosphere dispelled the tension between them.

"Is that normal for you, girls chasing you through the library?" Draco asked as they found an out of the way table and sat down with their meals.

Potter ducked his head in embarrassment. "Fairly normal, yeah," he admitted. "Sometimes it seems like half the female population is after me, and a quarter of the males as well."

"How did you gain such a celebrity status anyway?" Draco asked incredulously.

Potter flicked a glance at Draco, but his gaze skittered away immediately afterward. "Did some child acting when I was young, just adverts and the like. There were a few that grew quite popular, and for some reason people seem to remember them, unfortunately for me." He held Draco's gaze at that, pure confusion etched upon his face. Draco resisted the urge to laugh at how incongruous the emotion seemed with Potter's headstrong personality.

"Just a few popular adverts," Draco said in disbelief. "That somehow has the half the females here and a quarter of the males besides running after you like you're Colin Firth. Don't think I didn't notice how that girl glared at me," Draco continued accusingly as Potter began sputtering out a protest, "as though expecting me to know you without even needing a description."

Potter grimaced. "Alright, I might have been a child actor for a semi-popular drama that's currently all the rage with teenage girls," he allowed. "Anyway, it didn't last long, and it's not like I have any dear love of acting or its accompanying popularity. None of these girls seem to get that, though. It's annoying," he said in what sounded dangerously like a whine. He stabbed viciously at his salad.

Draco raised a brow. "Oh yes, what a shame, to have hordes of girls chasing after you," he droned sarcastically. "Just an absolute nightmare."

Potter gave a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know, I should be ecstatic," he said. "Honestly though, it gets tiring after a while. I don't want the fame. I don't really understand why I have it to begin with. But it's a moot point either way, since I don't-don't like girls." He stared firmly at Draco, as though daring him to comment on his hesitance. But Draco noticed how his jaw clenched in fear and his shoulders tensed warily.

"You're gay?" Draco wondered aloud, his eyes widening in surprise.

Potter's own eyes narrowed in response. "If you're homophobic, you can shove your opinions up your ass," he said fiercely. He angrily raked a hand through his hair and glared at his lunch.

"No, you tosser, I'm gay myself," Draco began heatedly, the confession pulled from him, but then he noticed something he hadn't seen before. "That's an odd-looking scar," he said curiously, his irritation draining away. He gestured to the lightning bolt shaped mark marring Potter's forehead. Potter gave a nearly imperceptible flinch, but Draco caught it anyway. "How did you get it?"

Potter's lips tightened. "That's not something I'm willing to share," he said quietly, shocking Draco with the change in his attitude.

Still, Draco understood where Potter was coming from. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "We all have our secrets," he agreed. His own were largely encapsulated by a stupid mistake, burned forever into the flesh of his left forearm and symbolizing a stretch of Draco's life he was glad to have left behind him. He and Potter were silent for a stretch, caught up in old memories.

"Tell me about yourself," Potter said finally, breaking the silence.

Draco hummed, gathering his thoughts. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked him that question due to an actual desire to get to know him. It raised other questions Draco hadn't thought he would need to consider, since he'd assumed he wouldn't see the man again after this chance encounter: What could he afford to share? How much was he comfortable revealing to the other man? "Eighteen, studying law," he said. "I like green apples, I hate sweets, and I'm highly independent."

"Eighteen, also studying law," Harry responded, surprise and pleasure coloring his tone. "I like reading but only if it isn't required for class, and I enjoy a game of rugby from time to time."

Draco grimaced. "I certainly don't," he said with a disdainful snort. "All that sweat and bodily contact. It's utterly undignified."

Potter released a disbelieving chuckle. "Says the man wearing a black long-sleeved shirt," he pointed out, nodding towards Draco's choice of dress. "Why the disparity?"

Draco froze mid-bite, barely resisting the urge to glance at his left arm to ensure that it was still hidden. Should he tell the truth? Immediately he knew he couldn't do that. Oddly enough, he liked Potter and enjoyed his company. He couldn't bear the disgust Potter would surely feel if he knew the truth. Should he lie and say the library was cold? But he knew instinctively that Potter wouldn't appreciate deception, and regardless, he didn't want to lie to Potter anyway. What was it about the man that Draco found so compelling?

Draco bottled away his internal turmoil for the time being. He knew his eyes looked unfocused, gazing into space as the memories crashed over him unbidden. "To hide a mistake," he finally offered, and he knew that Potter understood.

They finished their meal in silence.

When they stood up to leave, Potter offered to walk Draco to wherever he was headed next. Draco wondered why Potter was so eager to spend more time with Draco, but he didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he simply said, "I'm done with classes for the time being, so I'm just headed back to my dorm," and Potter nodded and fell in step, chatting amiably as they walked.

Draco almost didn't realize they'd already reached their destination, caught up in conversation as he was. He was strangely reluctant to let Potter leave, likely for good, but he had no reason to ask Potter to stay. "I'll see you around, then," he said politely.

"Yeah," Potter said absently, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Draco filed the information away, just as he had been doing during the time they had spent together, despite knowing he likely would have no use for it in future. "I had fun with you," Potter said finally. "In fact, I think I'd like to take you out sometime," Potter said finally.

"I'm sorry, what?" Draco asked, sure he'd misheard Potter somehow. "You mean, on a date."

Potter nodded in affirmation. Draco couldn't hold back a self-deprecating snort.

"You don't really mean that," he said. "You wouldn't, anyway, if you knew the truth."

Potter looked at Draco skeptically. "So tell me the truth," he prompted. "I doubt it's really as bad as all that. Come on, you're interesting, you're witty, you're attractive. At least give me a chance."

Draco laughed but there was no humor in the sound. "You think that now, but you have no idea. I was known as the Ice Prince back home, did you know?" he revealed. "Draco Malfoy, the heartless bastard with a perpetual stick up his ass, the emotional range of a rock, and lips that are probably cold as ice." The insults rolled easily off his tongue due to the frequency with which they'd been flung at him in the past. They didn't hurt him anymore as they once had, but perhaps they would warn Potter away.

Briefly, Draco wondered why he was trying to push Potter away in the first place. What would be so bad about letting him in? Potter certainly seemed as though he knew the meaning of discretion, and he acted like he was genuinely interested in Draco. Selfishly, Draco tried to convince himself that it would be fine to see where things went with Potter.

But he had built his walls and caged away such vulnerabilities for a reason, and regardless of how much he wanted it, Draco wasn't going to let Potter break them down.

"Trust me," Draco said firmly. "You don't want to date me. You want to leave before you end up hurting yourself unnecessarily."

Instead of looking revolted or scared, as Draco had hoped he might, Harry looked horrified. "That's awful," he said vehemently. "Idiots who say things like that would change their minds in an instant if they got to know you. The real you."

"No one knows the real me, Potter," Draco said emotionlessly.  _Not even me_ , he thought to himself. He turned away to unlock his door.

Potter rested a hand on Draco's arm then, startling Draco. "Wait," Potter said, turning Draco to face him. Draco tried to take half a step back as he realized Potter was standing much closer than he had been before, but Potter had blocked him in against the door and there was nowhere he could go. He tried to block out the panic threatening to engulf him as Potter leaned in towards him, clearly broadcasting his intent and giving Draco ample time to pull away or stop him.

Draco remained frozen and wide-eyed, unable to respond. Then Potter's lips covered his own, and he finally found himself able to move. He pressed into that delicious friction, giving back just as good as he got. He registered Harry pushing him into the door and welcomed the support when, just seconds after latching onto Draco's, Potter's lips ghosted up his jaw to his ear. "Definitely not cold as ice," Potter whispered. Draco shivered involuntarily.

Then Potter was gone, leaving a cold absence in his stead. Draco absently raised his hand to his lips, as though to catch the kiss Potter had just given him and keep it there, and watched Potter leave without looking back even once. There was a bounce in his step that Draco knew hadn't been there earlier. As Draco watched Potter disappear, he was left wondering, what the hell had just happened?


	3. Chapter 3

The days passed with no sign of Potter, which was odd enough in that they were both studying the same subject and therefore ought to have crossed paths at some point. Draco steadily worked to convince himself that whatever attraction they had shared had been little more than a passing fantasy, the kiss just an indulgence, and Potter's parting words simply delusional as Draco had already declared. Draco's life moved on as normal, as though the afternoon with Potter had never occurred, and Draco managed to confine his obsessive over-analysis of Potter's words and actions to the half hour period he spent preparing for bed at night.

Of course, Draco had never been all that good with  _normal_ , not when he was young and foolish, and certainly not now despite his older age and increased maturity. He had almost come to expect the unexpected, to as much of an extent as the unexpected could be expected, and he made it a point to no longer let it faze him. So when a month after their chance encounter, he received a call from the front desk stating that a boy named Harry Potter was asking for Draco to buzz him in, Draco simply released a long-suffering sigh and accepted his fate.

Draco opened the door to find Potter holding up a six-pack with a hopeful smile. Draco sighed again and walked away from the door without bothering to check if Potter followed, tossing a "Lock the door behind you" over his shoulder as he did. He curled up comfortably on his couch, tucking his knees underneath him, and held out a hand imperiously for a beer.

Potter complied with a chuckle and sat at the opposite end of the couch, mirroring Draco's position. Draco stared at him a little suspiciously, trying to guess whether Potter had done this on purpose, but then Potter passed over a bottle opener and Draco's focus shifted.

Silence reigned as the two of them sat and drank, but it was a comfortable sort and not wholly unwelcome. If Draco closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that Potter wasn't actually here, and Draco had hallucinated the past few minutes. It wouldn't have been too extraordinary, considering the workload Draco had been managing recently.

Potter cleared his throat then, a small and unobtrusive noise that nonetheless shattered the illusion immediately. As much as Draco would prefer to pretend this wasn't really happening, he knew he had to speak to Potter eventually.

Draco opened his eyes and met Potter's gaze. "Why are you here?" he asked. It was a simple question, an easy one that would hopefully lead to the discussion they really needed to have.

Potter shrugged, an easy smile back on his lips. "I told you, I'd like to take you out sometime. You obviously weren't interested so I figured hanging out as friends was the next best thing. The beer really needs no explanation."

"That's another thing," Draco said. He drained his bottle in one long pull and gestured for Potter to pass over both another bottle and the opener. "Are you mentally deficient? I told you, it won't do you any good to moon over me." He tried to ignore the regret that shot through his heart like a lance at the words.

"That's a bit pot-kettle, isn't it?" Potter said mildly.

"Are you calling me mentally deficient?" Draco cried, outraged. "I will have you know-"

Potter cut him off with another laugh. "I'm just saying, it's not really up to you to tell me what's good for me, is it? Unless you can read my thoughts, in which case maybe you really are mental," he said. "I can decide for myself whether or not liking you would have consequences."

"You're deciding wrong," Draco said sullenly, despite knowing Potter was right. Draco had done his duty in warning Potter off, and now it was up to Potter whether he wanted to listen.

For the first time, though, Draco found himself blatantly hoping that Potter would look past his posturing and call Draco on his bluff. The truth was, Potter intrigued Draco. There was something about him that drew Draco to him, leaving Draco wanting more than what little he had convinced himself he was allowed to have. Draco couldn't quite put his finger on it, even less so through the comfortable haze that was gradually settling over his mind, but whatever it was, Draco liked it.

"Tell me why, then," Potter was saying meanwhile, as Draco fixated on his internal monologue. Potter looked determined, and his tone was fierce. "You're smart, you're witty, you're well-informed. I barely spoke to you for an hour and it was still one of the most interesting conversations I've had recently. You're  _real_ , Malfoy. I don't understand why you're so vehemently opposed to this."

Draco opened his mouth to list the myriad reasons he had come up with over the course of the last month, but the alcohol combined with the exhaustion he already felt conspired to wipe his mind blank. To cover his confusion, he drank deeply from his bottle, trying to remember why exactly it was a bad idea to indulge Potter. Potter would break it off anyway, Draco was certain of that. So why not let himself be happy until then? Surely wanting affection wasn't a weakness.

The memory washed over him in a rush, a reminder of exactly why he was wrong.

_Screams fill the air, but he doesn't notice them. They simply don't register in his mind as he throws punch after punch, each hit connecting with solid flesh. A feral grin splits his face as his mates feed him encouragement, and he continues, his attacks growing stronger and stronger._

_It isn't until he is resting alone in his room when the monstrosity of his actions crashes over him. He gazes in horror at his knuckles, where he can see the blood still despite having scrubbed them thoroughly hours ago. He exhales in shock, and the quiet sound is like a shout, echoing through his large, empty room without end._

_But what's done is done, and there is no backing out now._

Draco tensed, clenching his eyes shut involuntarily in an instinctive defense against sensations he had no desire to feel again. He wouldn't wish those emotions, that guilt, on his worst enemy, much less someone he could potentially grow to care for.

He was brought abruptly to the present when Potter clasped a hand around Draco's left forearm. Draco's eyes flew open and he pulled away sharply, shrinking further back into the couch before he fully processed the situation. Then he stiffened, wondering how Potter would react.

"Draco," Potter said quietly, concerned. "Are you alright? I didn't think my question was that horrifying." Potter attempted a smile to accompany his latter words, but the attempt at humor fell flat.

"It's Malfoy," Draco said, the memory still clear in his mind. He saw Potter's expression fall in his periphery, but he pretended not to notice. He didn't think he could maintain his self-restraint if he allowed himself to think about how his actions were affecting Potter. The fresh reminder of his past had demolished all of his mental defenses, and his inhibitions were dangerously lowered. He shuddered to think what truths Potter could extract from him if he chose to.

Draco stood up abruptly, dropping his empty beer bottle carelessly on the floor and stifling a yawn. "I'm tired. I'm heading to bed. Feel free to see yourself out." He knew the words were harsh, and he could only imagine what Potter thought of his unexpected change in personality, but he was too shaken to care. He trudged unsteadily to his bed, falling onto the covers without bothering to change. He closed his eyes the moment his head touched the pillow, glad that sleep would come soon and wipe away the guilt that plagued him.

Draco was nearly asleep when Potter pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll see you around, I suppose," Potter whispered, presumably thinking Draco wasn't awake to hear him, and suddenly Draco couldn't bear the thought of letting the man leave without knowing how Draco truly felt. His previous misgivings melted away in the face of losing the first person who had inspired true happiness within Draco.

Draco reached blindly for Potter, flailing aimlessly in the air until his hand collided with what felt like fabric. "Potter," he whispered with his eyes tightly shut, knowing he would lose his nerve if you opened, "you were wrong." He smirked at that. There was a certain vindictive pleasure in knowing he had managed to pull one over on Potter, who had been so adamant that he knew Draco better than even Draco did after only two encounters. "I  _do_  like you. Just don't know if I should." His hand fell back to the bed and Draco smiled softly, letting sleep claim him at last.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco's alarm woke him the next morning. He clawed himself into an upright position, feeling groggier than he normally did, and rubbed his eyes blearily. As he did, his shirt sleeve rubbed against his cheek, and he stared at it in confusion, wondering why he hadn't changed before sleeping.

Then the previous night rushed back to him in a blur, and he released a frustrated groan, his head falling back until it thunked into his headboard.

He stayed like that for a minute, letting himself wallow in embarrassment and self-recrimination. His words from the previous night barrelled through his mind, making it difficult to think straight. Then he dragged himself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to transform himself into something resembling human. He returned to his room to wallow some more and then, having done a suitable amount of that, to organize his thoughts regarding Potter and figure out how to proceed.

Potter put paid to that strategy roughly two seconds after Draco closed the door behind him, and really Draco should have seen that coming as Potter seemed to have a penchant for ruining all of Draco's carefully constructed plans.

A bright yellow sticky note caught Draco's eye from where it was plastered to his desk, the non-adhesive side lifting slightly from the wooden surface. Draco made his way across the room and peeled the note off so he could read it.

_I'm free all day. Text me if you want to talk. -H_

Scrawled underneath in the same messy chicken scratch was a phone number. Draco quickly pulled out his own phone and dialed the number in as a new contact, attaching Potter's name to it when he was prompted. Then he shot off a quick text, asking Potter to meet him in the library where they'd first met so many weeks ago, and waited anxiously for a reply.

Though he got one just a few moments later, Draco lingered in his room, hesitating. If he met up with Potter now, he could no longer continue pretending his relationship with Potter was little more than a series of ill-advised coincidental encounters, fated to collapse onto itself as quickly as it had begun. It was not an enticing outcome, and to Draco's chagrin, he found himself seriously considering hiding in his room until this situation went away.

"Malfoys are not cowards," he said to himself, the words an echo of a sentiment he had heard all too often when he was younger. He grimaced at the unwanted memories and pushed them back like he had been unable to do the previous night. Despite the unpleasant shudder that passed through him, however, the words had their desired effect, propelling him through his door and towards the library before he lost his courage again.

Within moments, Draco was walking up the stairs to the floor where he was supposed to meet Potter, buying himself some time to gather his wits by foregoing the lift. "Malfoys don't run and hide," he whispered to himself sternly, trying for the same nonchalant attitude he was known for. And really, what did it say about him that he had to talk to himself in order to prepare for a simple conversation? He didn't particularly want to know. "Malfoys take control of the situation and turn it to their advantage." The words soured his mouth, calling forth images of his father and his associates.

Draco let them come. Emotional distance was just what he needed right now. Potter had the vexing ability to bodily drag Draco's emotions from the cage wherein he had confined them long ago. His unflinching honesty had wormed past all of Draco's defenses. When had Draco last met such a sincere person? He couldn't remember. His life had been so full of lies and deceit that it was all he knew.

So he continued repeating the maxims his father had ingrained in him since birth, a reminder that Potter couldn't possibly be real. Something had to give.

When Draco reached the correct floor, he paused for one more brief moment, squaring his shoulders before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with Potter, who was sitting at the same desk Draco had been sitting at when they first met. Draco strode forward and sat at the other chair pulled up to the desk, presumably by Potter since Draco didn't remember the desk ever having had a second chair any of the numerous times he had used it. Neither boy said anything.

Potter was the first to break the silence. "It seems pretty obvious to me what we should do," he declared quietly. "You like me, I like you, there's no reason to keep dancing around each other."

"I can think of plenty of reasons," Draco started, but Potter cut him off.

"But you won't share any of them, will you," Potter said, his inflection indicating the statement wasn't a question. Draco looked away to avoid admitting Potter was right. "So it doesn't matter, then. It's just a date, Draco. I'm not asking you to divulge your deepest secrets from the start. There's a chance we won't even work as a couple. But I like you. I'm drawn to you, and I don't want to miss this opportunity because you're scared."

Draco bristled. "I'm not scared," he spat out, glaring at Potter. He tried to dissuade Potter one last time. "You're right that it won't last long, though. I'm broken, Potter, I don't think that's made it through that thick skull of yours."

"As if I'm not?" Potter challenged. Draco's eyes widened in surprise, but suddenly he remembered Potter's skittish behavior when Draco had asked about his scar. It seemed Potter had his own secrets; Draco was surprised he'd managed to forget this vital piece of information. "I'm not looking for perfect, Draco. I'm just looking for happiness."

Draco said nothing, sifting through Potter's words and formulating a reply. Potter apparently took his silence for rejection, for he stood up with a sad smile. "Look, I get it. If you don't want to get out with me, I won't bug you again. I just thought it was worth a try." He hesitated a moment longer, and then turned around to walk away.

Draco made a decision. It was just one date, after all. And here, so far from his father's influence and the bloodied skeletons rattling in his closet, Draco couldn't justify letting fear dictate his life. Potter was right; he was only refusing to take this plunge because he was afraid. But Draco was done being afraid.

"Alright," he said. "One date, Potter. We'll see how it goes from there." Potter turned back towards him uncertainly, and Draco turned his gaze away again, tracing the wood grain of the desk with his eyes. "I'm not ready to come out to the world as a whole, though," he admitted quietly, wondering if Potter would be content to keep their relationship secret. He hadn't thought about the fact that after putting himself completely on the line, this one detail could turn it all on its head.

But he needn't have worried. "Then we'll cross those bridges when we get to them," Potter said dismissively. "Anyway, if you're agreeing to this, then you should call me Harry, right?" His eyes were bright, and he wore an infectious, easy grin that had Draco instinctively grinning in response. Pot- _Harry_ 's easy openness made it easy to trust him. Draco was still wary about the potential consequences that could come to pass, but for the first time, he didn't want to let those consequences hold him back.

"Well, if you insist, Harry," he drawled imperiously, with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. He couldn't let Harry think he was a total pushover, after all.

Harry just laughed and pulled Draco into a short but passionate kiss that left Draco slightly flustered and wondering why his lips tingled. Harry entwined his fingers with Draco's and tugged him out of the chair. "Do you have class?" he asked.

Draco shook his head. "Not for a few hours," he replied, and immediately Harry jerked him forward, pulling him along such that he had to either match Harry's pace or be left to trip over himself gracelessly in an effort not to go sprawling to the ground.

"Then we're having our first date right now," Harry declared, mercifully releasing his grip as they neared the stairs so that Draco could balance himself. "My treat, obviously." He reached the bottom of the stairwell before Draco could and waited impatiently for Draco to finally step onto the ground floor. Then he had hold of Draco's hand again, scarcely waiting for Draco to regain his footing before pulling him along again.

Despite himself, Draco was helpless but to follow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are new to ACOMI, ignore this note.
> 
> If you read ACOMI when it was originally published and haven't seen the note at the beginning of the fic, this note is important for you. **I have rewritten the first 4 chapters and retconned quite a bit of material.** If you're still interested in this fic for some ungodly reason, I would highly recommend rereading this from the beginning. 
> 
> Like I said earlier, I'm planning about 15 chapters for the fic, I have 9.5 of these chapters written, and I'm hoping to have this fic completely written (and hopefully published) by the end of the year. 
> 
> As always, comments are welcome, and I hope you enjoy.

Despite the chilly morning weather, Harry dragged Draco to a quaint ice cream shop several minutes away from campus. Eyeing Harry's thin tshirt with amusement, Draco spared a moment to be grateful for his own long sleeves that now served as a line of defense against the freezing interior of the shop.

He trailed behind Harry as the other boy deliberated over what to order, offering only a small shrug to Harry when he what flavor ice cream Draco wanted. He ended up asking for a scoop each of mint chocolate chip and vanilla in the same bowl, blushing slightly at his boldness when he placed it firmly on the table between him and Draco. He produced two spoons and waved one at Draco, waiting for Draco to take it before digging into the ice cream with his own.

Draco had to admit, he had been apprehensive even as he had felt his defenses physically crumbling that this date with Harry would be immensely unsatisfactory, a justification that he needed to listen to his head instead of his heart. But conversation flowed easily between the two of them, and Draco easily lost track of time, so engrossed was he in Harry. They bickered, they teased each other, they joked, they shared memories both fond and otherwise.

They left the shop a while later before they could be kicked out by the visibly irritated staff, who were no doubt upset the two boys were taking seats that could be occupied by paying customers instead. Laughing to themselves at the glares they were receiving, they fled to a nearby bookstore for lack of anything better to do.

"I knew this was an awful idea," Draco lamented to Harry in a mournful whisper. Harry's expression fell immediately, but Draco ignored it and powered on. "I actually liked their ice cream and now I can never go back to that shop."

"I'm sure we can find another ice cream shop," Harry placated, relief that Draco didn't actually regret going out with him evident in his tone. "It's not the end of the world, honestly."

"Might as well be," Draco said for the sole purpose of being contrary.

Harry only laughed, the sound much louder than was probably appropriate in a bookshop, and that was when the appearance an aggravated employee prompted them to flee the bookshop as well for fear they would be ejected for their unruly behavior.

Draco felt he was punch-drunk on happiness and adrenaline. He couldn't remember having laughed this hard or for this long any time in the past several years, and yet after leaving the bookshop he and Harry hadn't stopped giggling like schoolchildren until they were two streets away. They walked aimlessly, paying no heed to where they went, until Draco absently checked his phone and was floored to realize it was already time for him to get to class.

Draco was loathe to leave Harry for the dreary monotone that characterized his next class, but he hadn't missed a lecture yet and he certainly didn't intend to now. He kissed Harry softly, lingering in the sensation. The emotional storm he had weathered this morning seemed as though it had occurred ages ago; his feelings toward Harry then were so disjunct from what they were now that Draco almost couldn't believe he had ever felt that way at all.

He forced himself to pull away finally, his work ethic taking precedence over his burgeoning feelings for Harry. "I'll text you," he said.

"I'll be waiting," Harry said flirtatiously.

Draco walked away with a smile on his face.

He lasted exactly thirteen minutes and twenty-four seconds from the start of the lecture before he broke down and sent Harry a text, though it contained little more than a simple "miss you." Harry responded a few minutes later, saying "miss you too." A second text followed the first, accompanied by a picture of Harry lying haphazardly on what seemed to be his bed: "wish you were here."

Draco couldn't suppress his quiet chuckle in time, but he managed to turn it into a fake cough instead. The students seated next to him glanced at him briefly, and he smiled apologetically at them before facing forward again and trying once more to pay attention to his professor.

His lack of response, far from discouraging Harry from distracting him while he was in class, instead served to inspire Harry to send a spate of texts ranging from the flirty ("thinking about you xx") to the utterly outrageous ("do you think aliens know what capitalism is?"). Draco eventually had to resort to silencing his phone, something he usually never did; there were only so many times he could feign a coughing fit to disguise his laughter before his peers grew either wary or suspicious of him. By the time his lecture ended, Draco had nearly twenty unread text messages from Harry. More importantly, to Draco's chagrin, he realized he had barely caught half of the lecture and would now have to borrow someone else's notes.

He called Harry as soon as he was able, on his way back to his dorm after his final lecture of the day. "You can't text me so much when I'm in class," he complained without preamble when Harry picked up his phone. "I get distracted."

"I don't see a problem with that," Harry said smugly. Draco exhaled loudly, not bothering to hide his exasperation, but he smiled softly to himself where Harry couldn't see. "You abandoned me far too early today; texting you was the only way I could communicate with you."

"I did not abandon you," Draco scoffed. "I went to class. We are uni students, Harry, and that means occasionally attending class and learning things."

"I much prefer spending time with you to that," Harry remarked, and Draco rolled his eyes in response.

"I suppose you think I should make it up to you?" he drawled. He had reached his room by now, and he slipped his key into the lock so he could open his door.

"Obviously," Harry said in full seriousness. "It's only right."

Draco snorted and pushed open his door. "Tomorrow, then? We can go to the cinema or something."

"No, I'm busy tomorrow. I'm hanging out with two of my friends, Ron and Hermione," Harry explained. "Although, if you wanted to meet them, I suppose you could join us? We're just going to the pub for a few pints. I know you said you weren't ready to come out, but they're good people, I know they wouldn't say anything."

Immediately, unease set in. Draco didn't know how to respond. Just the thought of coming out to people he didn't even know, much less know well enough to anticipate the reactions of, left him in a cold sweat. But evidently these people meant a lot to Harry, if Harry was so eager to introduce Draco to them just a day after they'd begun dating. Draco had made it clear this morning that he had no intention of broadcasting his sexuality to anyone quite yet; surely Harry wouldn't ask this of him if he had any misgivings about his friends?

As Draco opened his mouth to ask for some time to think about it, his gaze fell upon the neon yellow sticky note from where it had fallen to his desk that morning. He had forgotten to throw it in the bin during either his emotional crisis or his rush to leave the room, and now it glared at him accusingly. All of a sudden, reality crashed down upon him, reminding him how quickly he had moved into this relationship. This combined with the paralyzing knowledge of how serious Harry already was sent tremors ripping through his body, and he sank weakly down on to his bed before his traitorous legs could give way as they were threatening to do. "I think the day after might be best," he said shakily, hoping that Harry wouldn't hear the tremor in his voice.

"Alright," Harry agreed instantly, seemingly oblivious. "Let me know when to meet you."

"I will," Draco reassured him. "Listen, I have to go, I have a lot of work to do tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He barely waited for Harry to say his own farewell before he hung up and let the phone drop heavily to his bedcovers.

What had he been thinking, making such a reckless decision as this? There was no way this relationship could work out for him. In fact, the past had systematically proven to him that selfish indulgences could only result in heartbreak. There was no reason to suspect Harry was any different. Just this morning, Draco had been warning Harry not to go out with such a broken man as Draco, and just last night, Draco had had a vivid reminder of why his fears were legitimate. How had he forgotten all of this so quickly?

Frantically, Draco scrabbled at his left sleeve, pushing it up to his elbow to stare at what lay below. A menacing skull was inked into his skin near his elbow, an intricate snake protruding from its mouth and winding its way up to Draco's wrist. The tattoo rippled ominously as Draco clenched his fist. Draco imagined the snake breaking free of its restraints and lifting off of Draco's arm, hissing malevolently as it aimed for Draco's jugular. Even now, inanimate though it was, its glittering eyes seemed to hold Draco in reproach not only for the horrifying acts he had committed in the past, but also for his attempt to run from them instead of facing them head on.

He had told himself he wasn't a coward this morning, and in fact had used that as a rationale for meeting with Harry. But wasn't his very presence at university a contradiction of that? He had chosen to run away from the memories that haunted them rather than undergo the confrontations he knew he would have to face eventually. Instead of making his peace with the person he had been, he had pushed those consequences an interminable distance into the future, reasoning that he would be better equipped to deal with them later instead of burdening himself with them now.

His decision was coming back to bite him now. He wore a facade when he was around Harry, pretending to be strong and confident and worthy of Harry's attention, but he couldn't maintain it forever. Sooner or later, Harry would discover the secrets hiding behind Draco's mask. He would learn about the deceit and guilt buried beneath Draco's skin like a second layer, eating away at Draco like an itch he couldn't reach.

Already the cracks were beginning to show.

Even as he agonized over the consequences of this decision, his phone buzzed with a text. Draco glanced at it, his heart rate speeding up when he saw it was from Harry. He unlocked his phone to find a short and sweet "can't wait to see you again" waiting for him.

A soft smile stretched his lips as memories of their date flooded back to him. Once more he felt the giddiness that had been buzzing through him all morning, and he remembered exactly why he had agreed to date Harry. Harry had the ability to convince Draco that everything would work out in its own time.

Draco could had done some awful things in previous years, but he was done with them now. There was nothing for Draco to fear here. He would not let phantoms of his past haunt him in the safe haven he had created for himself.

He texted Harry late into the night, citing the excuse that he had misread the deadline for his homework when Harry admonished him to complete his studies. He didn't care that he would feel the exhaustion the next morning when he had to wake up for his eight o'clock class. It was worth it to know that Harry cared about him enough to stay up with him, and that knowledge sent him to sleep with a content smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I wanted to finish the chapter I was working on before updating, but that chapter was fighting me every step of the way. I got it finished though, and the next chapters should come more easily.
> 
> Please take a moment to leave a comment; your comments will keep me from falling into a pit of despair as finals week approaches lol.

True to his word, Draco took Harry to see a film two days later. They caught an early afternoon showing of some popular new superhero movie, and what the date lacked in romantic cliches, it made up for with cheap tickets and the whispered, sarcastic commentary Harry and Draco kept running through the film, much to the irritation of their surrounding moviegoers.

They left the cinema suppressing fits of laughter, squinting their eyes against the blinding glare of sunlight that welcomed them back into reality. They reenacted their favorite scenes from the film as they ambled across the pavement towards a deli Draco had seen across the street from the cinema.

Once inside, they grew subdued in favor of consuming their meals, though occasionally, Draco would catch Harry's eyes and mime a particularly amusing moment from the film, or vice versa, and they would devolve into another spate of muffled giggles.

Draco had finished his lunch and was waiting for Harry to do the same when he grew aware of two wide-eyed girls their age staring at them from across the small restaurant. They were whispering furiously to each other from behind hands raised to their mouths.

"We've got fans," Draco said quietly to Harry, who immediately whipped around to find who Draco was talking about. Draco resisted the urge to release an exasperated groan and possibly hide his face in his hands; he settled instead for closing his eyes briefly and sighing. "No, don't do that, you'll get their attention," he admonished.

Harry looked back at Draco. "Too late for that," he said sheepishly, gesturing discreetly towards the two girls who were now making their way to Harry and Draco. The girls reached their table a moment later, leaving Draco unable to reply. He opted to glare halfheartedly at Harry instead, tugging self-consciously at his left sleeve to ensure his tattoo was hidden.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" one of the girls enthused. "From the Pride and Prejudice drama!" She barely waited a moment for Harry to gesture in a vaguely affirmative manner, some combination of shrugging his shoulders and half-grimacing that left Draco stifling a chuckle, before continuing. "You were so good! I mean, most child actors are so stilted, or it's really obvious they don't have the experience older actors do, but you acted so naturally! Sometimes I totally forgot it was just a show, you were so realistic."

"Um. Thanks?" Harry said. His eyes flickered to Draco's, a plea for help spelled clearly within them. Draco just turned his gaze to the table and snickered.

"Anyway," the other girl said forcefully, glaring at her friend, "we didn't mean to take up much of your time. We were just wondering if we could take a picture with you?"

By now, the handful of other patrons in the small restaurant had also begun to take notice of the situation. It was clear that the attention was unsettling for Harry, if the way he was nervously wringing his hands was any indication. "Um," Harry started, glancing helplessly at Draco. "I don't really-"

"He'd be delighted," Draco cut in with a wide smile. "In fact, I can take it for you so you're both in the picture, how's that?"

"Wait, Draco," Harry said, but Draco brushed him off and took hold of the smartphone one of the girls was passing him.

"Alright, on 3," he said, aiming and focusing the camera. "1, 2, 3." He tapped the screen. The image froze with a small click as it was captured before the camera returned to normal. "There you go, girls," Draco said graciously, handing the camera back. "Now if you'll excuse us, we were just leaving." He stood up and gestured to Harry to follow suit.

"Of course, sorry! Thank you!" said the first girl, her chirpy voice too loud in the now-silent cafe. The pair retreated to their own table as Draco waited for Harry to pick up his trash to throw away.

As they headed to the bins, Draco finally noticed the tension in Harry's shoulders and the firm set to his lips. He remembered suddenly how Harry had told him he didn't care for fame, and Draco wondered if perhaps there was a deeper reason for Harry's discomfort.

Feeling uncomfortably guilty, Draco swallowed his own discomfort and reached out for Harry's hand as they walked towards the door. He rubbed soothing circles on Harry's skin, trying to convey a silent apology and offer some small comfort in the tense atmosphere of the cafe. Harry squeezed Draco's hand in silent acknowledgement, and to Draco's delight, he noticed that Harry was smiling slightly.

Draco had just rested his hand on the door handle when one of the girls blurted out, her voice laced with disgust, "Wait, he's a faggot?"

Several things happened at once. By Draco's side, Harry stiffened with a sharp intake of breath and clutched so tightly at Draco's hand, he would not have been surprised to find mild bruises forming later that evening. The girl's companion exclaimed, "Oh my god, Lavender! You can't say things like that!" All conversation in the cafe drew to a close as the patrons zeroed in on Draco and Harry's linked hands, and though most turned away immediately, clearly disinterested, a few gawked openly, only adding to the overall tension of the situation. The sudden silence that permeated the atmosphere was disturbed only by the loud, out-of-place whirring of machinery from the back.

"Harry," said Draco in a low voice, turning the name into a question and a reassurance at the same time. He didn't look at Harry as he said it, though, preferring instead to burn a hole into the girl's head with his eyes. If looks could kill, he mused absently, she would have been drawn and quartered by his gaze within seconds.

"Let's just go," Harry whispered back. His voice was shaky and his eyes were damp. He tugged lightly on Draco's hand.

Draco turned to look at him, taking in his pale face and clenched fists before acquiescing with a curt nod. He used his free hand to push the door open and gestured for Harry to walk through first. Directing one final, scathing glare at the girl, Draco followed Harry outside and let the door slam shut behind him.

Pressing a hand covertly against Harry's lower back, Draco pushed him away from the cafe and towards the tube. "We're going back to my dorm," he told Harry firmly. Harry only nodded once, shakily, his eyes downcast, and continued shuffling in the direction Draco had directed him.

Draco let his hand drop from Harry's back when he felt certain that Harry would continue moving without Draco's guidance. His hands clenched into fists as well, mirroring Harry's, as anger washed over him anew. This wasn't the Harry he knew. This wasn't the Harry who had coaxed Draco out of his shell with promises of happiness and freedom. This was a Harry he had only glimpsed once before, and that, too, for scarcely a split second-when he had asked Harry about the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Draco wondered if that scar had something to do with how Harry was acting now. Had the girl in the cafe said something reminiscent of the circumstances that had led to the scar? What was the connection?

Despite his concern and curiosity, however, Draco didn't pry. Instead, he gently guided Harry onto the tube, through campus, and into his room. He sat Harry down on the bed before turning away to fetch him a bottle of water. He perched on his desk chair, watching in silence as Harry downed the bottle in one go.

"This is certainly not how I imagined our date ending," Draco remarked after a moment, when it became clear Harry was not going to say anything. He hoped the dryness of his voice masked the confusion and worry he was feeling.

"No, me neither," Harry agreed, his voice still hoarse. He fiddled aimlessly with the plastic bottle, tossing it back and forth between his hands. Draco waited silently for a moment longer, thinking Harry might be more inclined to speak now that he had had a few minutes to calm down. Indeed, Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but to Draco's irritation, nothing came out.

Finally, Draco lost his patience. "Are you going to say anything?" he demanded. "What happened back there? What she said wasn't right, but it wasn't something that should have caused the reaction it did. Tell me what's going on, Harry."

Harry visibly bristled. His hand flew to his scar, and though he immediately disguised the gesture by brushing his fringe out of his eyes, the action only served to confirm Draco's suspicions that the incident in the cafe was connected to Harry's scar. "It was nothing," Harry said finally, still avoiding Draco's gaze. He took a breath to add something, but hesitated at the last second and seemed to decide against it.

Draco released an explosive sigh. "Obviously it wasn't nothing," Draco bit out. "You wouldn't be sitting here shaking if it had been nothing." He clenched and unclenched his hands helplessly, trying to find a release for the frustration he felt that didn't result in using Harry as a target. Breathing in deeply, he forced himself to calm down. "Tell me what happened," he beseeched, his voice soft with desperation. "Let me help you, you arrogant git. I can't do that if I don't know what's wrong."

Harry finally raised his head and met Draco's gaze when Draco insulted him, remorse shining in his eyes. His hands stilled; silence stretched between the two, fraught with the words that remained unspoken. "It's not that I don't trust you," Harry started. He trailed off, frustrated. "I want to tell you," he tried again, "but it's not something I feel comfortable talking about right now. Surely you understand?" He dropped the water bottle onto the bedcovers beside him and gestured to Draco's left arm. Draco gripped at his sleeve reflexively and tugged it down. His face burned as he realized he had only played into Harry's intent. "You have your own secrets," Harry continued. "Let me have mine."

Despite his concern for Harry, and the anger he felt that someone could have reduced the boy to the nearly catatonic mess sitting on Draco's bed, Draco had to concede that he had a point. Draco couldn't very well expect Harry to reveal the details of his past when Draco himself wasn't comfortable returning the gesture.

"Point taken," he said quietly. He hoped Harry would hear the apology hidden beneath the words. "You're right. I'll let you tell me when you're ready."

Harry smiled. He pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room until he was standing in front of Draco. Taking Draco's face in his hands, he pressed a soft kiss to Draco's lips.

"Thank you," he whispered against them, his forehead resting against Draco's, their breaths intermingling until Draco couldn't tell where his ended and Harry's began.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does the screaming thing* On one hand, I survived finals. On the other hand, I had to give up sleep and any semblance of an eating schedule in order to do so. Anyway, happy new year! I'm really sorry for the delay in updates, I've been super busy and then ACOMI just slipped my mind. I've also hit a pretty bad case of writer's block, and I was a little reluctant to upload a new chapter when I hadn't made any progress on the rest of the fic.
> 
> I don't want to leave you all hanging, though, so I'm uploading anyway and hoping this will inspire me to finish the chapter I'm working on. Thanks for your patience, guys. As always, comments are appreciated. This is my favorite chapter so far, so I'd love to know what you guys think! Happy reading!

 

"You're not getting anything?" Harry asked Draco as they joined the queue for the register so Harry could purchase the myriad items he was juggling.

Draco shook his head. "No one to shop for," he said plainly. "Besides you, anyway, and I'm hardly going to purchase your Christmas present with you right here."

"Not even for your parents?" Harry pressed.

Draco's lip curled. "I'm not too keen on reminding them of my existence right now," he said shortly.

Harry looked at him curiously, but they had reached the register by then, and Harry was forced to redirect his attention to the cashier instead of Draco's estrangement from his parents.

Still, Draco wasn't lucky enough for Harry to drop the conversation entirely. The reprieve he was granted was mournfully short, and just moments after they left the shopping center, Harry asked, "So where are you staying over break, then?"

Draco spared a moment to think about the question. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted finally, clenching his fists as a defense against the warning bells ringing in his head telling him not to share this vulnerability with Harry. "I thought I might stay with Blaise or Pansy, but Pansy is going to France with her parents, and I'm fairly certain Blaise is sharing his flat with his flavor-of-the-month."

Harry nodded once in acknowledgement but otherwise did not respond. He dropped his gaze to the bags in his hands, absently hefting them as he mulled something over. Content to avoid the subject, Draco did nothing to break the ensuing silence.

A minute later, Harry spoke again. "Come stay at mine, then," he said, determination etched on his features. "If you really don't have anywhere to go."

Draco stumbled on the pavement. He grabbed Harry's arm to steady himself, then used the grip to force Harry to face him once he was upright again. "You can't be serious," he said faintly.

Harry shrugged. "You don't have anywhere to stay; I'll have the flat to myself since Ron's going home over break. It makes perfect sense."

Draco made a strangled noise. "It's a little early to move in together, don't you think?" he asked. He realized then that his hand was still on Harry's shoulder, and he snatched it away before Harry could notice how long it had been there.

Harry started walking again as he replied, forcing Draco to follow. "It wouldn't be permanent," Harry pointed out. "Look, just think about it. You've still got a week to decide, yeah? Besides, if you're that concerned, you can just cover Ron's portion of the rent over break." He jostled Draco's shoulder with a smile, amusement glinting in his eyes.

They had reached the station by then, and Draco fell silent as he focused on scanning his card and following Harry to the correct platform. He took a minute to regain his composure and properly consider Harry's invitation.

Uncertainty warred with gratitude in Draco's mind. They had only been dating for a few months, and though Draco felt more and more secure in their relationship with each day, he still wasn't comfortable laying himself bare in front of Harry. What if Harry suddenly decided he wanted nothing more to do with Draco?

Draco scoffed at himself. Hadn't he decided not to let his worries of the past dictate his future? Now that the shock had worn off, Draco had no excuse to refuse. He had nowhere else to go, as Harry had so aptly pointed out, and Harry had made it clear that he didn't mind the imposition.

The carriage doors had long closed behind them when Draco turned to Harry and said, "Let me know how much the rent is; I'll cover it. I wouldn't dream of imposing you for so long without recompense."

Harry's mouth split open in a wide grin when he realized what Draco was saying. "Just pay me in kisses," he told Draco. "I think a thousand ought to cover five weeks' rent."

Draco scowled to hide his mortification. "So you're not planning on going anywhere over break, then?" he asked, changing the subject.

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's response to being teased but answered nonetheless. "The Weasleys are having me over for Christmas dinner; I might stay a few days to help out and hang out with Ron." His expression brightened then. "Why don't you come with me? Ron says his mum always cooks enough for a small army; I'm sure she wouldn't mind one more mouth to feed."

"As your date, you mean," Draco clarified.

Harry nodded.

Draco's mouth went dry. He had steadily grown more willing to come out to his and Harry's friends, even if he wasn't entirely comfortable, since he at least knew they would be supportive. But the thought of announcing his sexual preferences to a group of virtual strangers was enough to give him heart palpitations. He would never be able to maintain control in a situation that unpredictable and potentially volatile.

"If Weasley's family is even half as annoying as he is, I think I'll pass," he drawled, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky as he thought it did.

Harry sighed. "I wish you'd make more of an effort to get along with Ron," he said. The argument was a familiar one, since Harry and Draco both staunchly refused to change their stances.

"I will when he stops acting like I'm only dating you to steal your virginity and prey on your innocence," Draco maintained with a haughty sniff.

The assessment was not overly inaccurate. On each of the rare occasions they had met, Weasley had made a point to impress upon Draco the severity of the consequences he would face if he broke Harry's heart. Weasley's overprotective behavior would have been endearing, in much the same way a precocious toddler was endearing, had Draco not found it so immensely irritating already.

Weasley's animosity seemed only to grow when, a week later, Draco rolled his suitcase through Harry and Weasley's front door. If looks could kill, Draco mused, he was sure the intensity of Weasley's gaze would have flayed Draco's skin from his bones the second he crossed the threshold. The redhead fumed silently from where he stood angrily, arms crossed and shoulder stiff with tension, in the kitchen.

"I'm only a phone call away, Harry," Weasley said loudly. With a quick glance thrown towards Draco, and a valiant attempt to lower his voice that fell just shy of success, Weasley continued, "You know you can stay with us, yeah? Mum wouldn't mind one bit."

Harry smiled good-naturedly. "I'll be fine here," he reassured his friend. "You should go, though, or you won't make it to the airport in time."

Weasley didn't move. "You're sure you won't get lonely?" he pressed. "Or bored? Or unhappy?"

Draco sighed impatiently, fed up with Weasley's failed attempts at subtlety. "Weasley, I will have Harry all to myself for over a month. I assure you, I will find ways to keep him entertained." He drew the final word out suggestively, leering at Harry as he did so. Weasley's face reddened, but he finally picked up his own luggage, hugged Harry one more time, and walked out of the flat.

The moment he and Harry were alone, Draco crossed over to Harry and pulled him into a deep kiss. "What do you say we celebrate Weasley's departure by defiling his bed?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Harry swatted at his chest with a laugh, calling him on his bluff. "We have Netflix and popcorn," he said instead, laughing again when Draco's face lit up with childish joy.

"Then why are we just standing here talking? Go on, make the popcorn, we have movies to watch and actors to heckle," Draco said imperiously, urging Harry to start moving.

They spent much of the first week cuddling together underneath layers of blankets to block out the cold, moving only when one of the two had to go to work or run errands. The days blurred together, passing by in a haze of falling into each other with complete abandon. In want of something to do, their snogging sessions grew increasingly common and heated in equal measures, until Draco reckoned he had mapped every inch of Harry's skin with his lips, and Harry had done the same to Draco.

A week before Christmas day, Harry absently pointed out the lack of a proper Christmas tree in the flat, and the two braved the cold weather and holiday crowds to hunt down the perfect specimen. They found it eventually, a plastic, moderately-priced neon monstrosity wedged behind two larger packages containing faux-evergreen trees. Draco was hard-pressed to contain his disdain for the gaudy tree, but he had to admit it had begun to grow on him by the time they lugged it back to the flat.

To his chagrin, Draco found himself inexplicably drawn to the horribly cliched Christmas films that seemed to air without pause as the holiday drew ever near. He forced Harry to watch as many of the cringeworthy films as they could stomach. More often than not, their impromptu movie marathons turned into drinking games that ended with the two laughing too loudly and snogging sloppily, the films continuing to play unheeded in the background.

They went ice skating once, a few days after buying the tree. Draco immediately took to the ice, but Harry couldn't seem to skate more than a meter without falling spectacularly. Draco teased him mercilessly about it as they made their way back to the flat, cheeks red and fingers shoved deep into their coat pockets. Harry retaliated by sticking a handful of snow down the back of Harry's shirt, leading Draco to declare war. By the time the two stumbled through Harry's door, they were cold and wet, snow clinging to their clothes like a second skin. Neither boy could stop laughing.

As he took in Harry's disheveled and flushed appearance, Draco thought to himself, _This is what coming home feels like_. The thought took his breath away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, college has been kicking my butt. I'm so sorry to have left you all hanging, I haven't had much time to work on ACOMI recently orz but never fear! I have the next few chapters written and I'm working on the rest so you will get an end to this hell eventually! Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with me this far.
> 
> Comments are adored. Pls pls pls leave a comment, even if it's just a few words! I'll love you forever if you do.

"I had a brilliant idea," Draco proclaimed one evening, as Harry booted up his laptop and Draco pulled the popcorn from the microwave. "I think we should watch that drama you were in."

Harry whipped around to level Draco with a glare. "No," he said immediately, his voice firm, but Draco didn't let it faze him.

"In fact, I looked it up earlier," he continued breezily, ignoring the look of panic slowly settling in on Harry's face, "and I found out it was on Netflix. How convenient."

"Draco, no," Harry protested, gripping the laptop tightly. Draco easily distracted him with a kiss, stole the laptop when Harry's grasp loosened, and danced away triumphantly with his spoils. He deftly searched up the appropriate title and settled in the bed he and Harry were sharing with the laptop balanced on his crossed legs. As he eagerly pressed play and the sounds of the opening theme filled the small bedroom, Harry joined Draco on the bed as well. He made a show of groaning loudly and, hardly an episode in, began mouthing at Draco's neck to discourage him from continuing to watch the show.

Draco would have been ashamed to admit that the diversionary tactic worked, forcing him to close the laptop after watching only three episodes, had his body not been singing with pleasure. He turned his attention to Harry instead, returning his ministrations in kind.

"You could have built a fairly successful career using that as a starting point," Draco said to Harry. "It was phenomenal."

Harry responded to the compliment by biting lightly down on Draco's shoulder, laving over the bite a second later with his tongue to take away the sting. He grazed his hand down Draco's torso before grabbing his hip and maneuvering him so that Draco lay flat on the bed with Harry straddling his waist.

When Harry said nothing more, Draco asked the question that had been plaguing him all evening. "Why didn't you keep acting?" he asked, his voice breathy as Harry continued pressing kisses in a trail down his collarbone. "Did you really hate it that much?"

Harry stilled for a moment, prompting Draco to release a low whimper at the loss, but he snapped out of his daze as quickly as he had entered it. "Circumstances prevented it," he said simply, before causing Draco to lose his train of thought by pushing up Draco's shirt and mouthing at Draco's sensitive stomach until the blond was trembling.

Draco let himself get lost in the pleasure. A euphoric haze settled over his mind, and his thoughts grew so scattered as to be incoherent. His world boiled down to the sight and feeling of Harry's mouth traveling across his body.

Then Harry tried to pull the shirt off by prompting Draco to raise his arms so he could slide the fabric up them, and Draco panicked.

Perhaps sensing the tension thrumming through Draco's body, or perhaps simply seeing his expression, Harry stilled. "We don't have to," he said quietly, as he had on each of the previous occasions they had reached this point. He began rolling the shirt back down Draco's torso even as he spoke, already anticipating Draco's answer.

But maybe the euphoria of the holiday season was wearing off on Draco, for he caught Harry's wrists and encouraged him to undress Draco, cooperating as Harry swept the shirt over his shoulders and arms. He paused just once, when the fabric was bunched around Draco's elbows, and glanced at Draco with a questioning gaze. Steeling his courage, Draco pulled the shirt over those final few inches himself and dropped it to the side. He brought his arms down.

He realized the moment Harry caught sight of the tattoo, as a sharp intake of breath echoed through the room. Tentatively, Harry reached out with two fingers as though to trace the ink. His fingers hovered uncertainly above the decorated skin until Draco pushed his arm up to meet them. They began following the patterns that curved around Draco's arm, though Harry's movements were still slow and hesitant. Draco shivered at the sensation, goosebumps rising on the affected flesh, and glanced down to watch Harry caress his arm.

Seeing the image again sent a flurry of sense memories and images flashing through Draco's mind.

_He feels the cold steel of a gun in his hands. His finger toys with the trigger, his arms already braced for the recoil. A slight twitch of his muscles, and a man drops dead mere feet in front of him with a single, cut off cry of pain._

_A petite woman hurries through the darkness, but Draco and his mates corner her beneath a dimly lit streetlight. Draco barks out the customary threats, a thrill shooting through his veins at the volatile situation. The woman all but throws her purse at them before scurrying away, tears trailing down her cheeks, and Draco revels in the power he holds in his bare hands._

_He watches an execution without flinching, unmoved by the man's pleas to spare him for the sake of his family. The man is innocent, but what does that matter when he has angered Lucius and the people that work for him?_

_The shame never washes over him until he is alone, surrounded only by his own self-recrimination, choking back bile at the notion that he finds pleasure in toying with the lives of other people._

With a violent shudder, Draco pushed the memories back. Harry dropped a gentle kiss to Draco's lips, and Draco lost himself in the sensation for a moment. All of a sudden, his breath seemed to rattle too harshly in the stagnant silence permeating the flat, broken only by the quiet hum of the traffic outside.

"What is it?" Harry asked after a moment.

"A reminder," Draco answered quietly. "Of a mistake I made, once. A mistake that ended in a lot of pain for a lot of people." He left it at that, fear coursing through his veins at the thought of revealing more than he already had. Some part of his brain still expected Harry to recognize the tattoo and bolt, irrational as the conviction was, and Draco was surprised he hadn't already done so. It wasn't exactly an obscure symbol; if Harry really wanted to know the story behind it, he could easily Google the image.

Harry's fingers continued tracing the tattoo, but he was entirely focused on Draco. Draco drew in a shuddering breath at the intensity of having Harry's full attention. He locked gazes with the other boy, knowing that if he looked away, his eyes would be drawn once more to his tattoo, causing a cascade of flashbacks he didn't want to experience.

When Harry's voice cut through the silence, it was hesitant and unsteady, a sharp contrast from the determination burning in his eyes. "My parents died when I was eleven," he said. "It was a car crash. We were driving home from an audition for some children's show, I forget what it was now, when someone ran a red and barrelled into us."

He took a deep breath and broke the eye contact, dipping his head forward until his forehead rested against Draco's. His fingers had stopped their motions against Draco's arm, drifting up to loosely encircle his wrist instead. Draco brought his right arm around Harry's shoulders, holding him close. He saw that Harry's eyes had drifted shut, and his own followed suit.

"I was lucky," Harry breathed against Draco's lips, making him shiver involuntarily. "I survived with a broken arm, two cracked ribs, and some gashes on my legs. My parents, though…" He trailed off. Draco tilted his chin up so he could kiss Harry, trying to pour silent encouragement into the gesture. He noticed that Harry hadn't mentioned the scar on his forehead, and he took the omission to mean that Harry had acquired it elsewhere. He filed the information away absently, deciding to address it some other time.

At length, Harry continued. "I still don't know if I even got the part," he said with a wry chuckle. The incongruous statement forced a surprised laugh from Draco as well. "But between preparations for the funeral and transferring my care to my mum's sister, I didn't have much time to dedicate to acting. And afterwards, well," he broke off. He swallowed audibly. "Well, circumstances prevented it," he said, echoing his previous statement. His shoulders moved against Draco's in what felt like a shrug.

Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that there was more to the situation than what Harry had told him, but he bit his tongue before his myriad questions could spill out against his will. He recognized how much effort it must have taken Harry to tell Draco even this much, and he felt a little awed that Harry trusted him enough to share this piece of his past with him.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured. He extricated his left arm from Harry's grasp and gently moved him to the side. He slipped out of bed to turn off the lights and move the laptop off the bed, before crawling back beneath the covers, which Harry had turned down in Draco's absence. They sought each others' arms in the darkness, and fell asleep entangled in each other.

Harry left for the Weasleys' the next morning, despite his numerous protests that he couldn't leave Draco after a night as emotionally charged as they had just shared. Draco simply manhandled him towards the door in response and thrust his duffel into his chest.

"I'll be fine," he drawled, dismissing Harry's concerns. "Besides, loathe as I am to agree with Weasley, you'll only be a phone call away. If I ever do feel inclined to burst into tears, even though that's your area of expertise rather than mine, I'll simply call you."

"Look, Draco, it really isn't a problem," Harry tried to insist. "We should talk about this or-"

"You are turning into Weasley and I wholeheartedly do not approve," Draco declared. He turned away with a haughty sniff.

Harry laughed at his antics. "Alright, I'm leaving," he said, underscoring his reassurance by opening the door and stepping through. At the last second, he pulled Draco forward by his collar and kissed him deeply. "I'll see you in a few days," he promised, and then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

Draco's phone buzzed a few minutes later, just as he was settling back into bed to sleep for another hour or two. He thumbed open the notification to see that he had received a text from Harry reading "Left your present under the tree; do NOT open until Christmas day. I will know if you do." Horror dawned on him as he realized that, caught up in Harry and the holiday spirit as he had been, he had completely forgotten to buy Harry a present.

He left the flat in a hurry, barely pausing to wrap a scarf around his neck and lock the flat behind him, desperately hoping that the Christmas crowds hadn't stripped the shops bare quite yet.

At least he had another day if he was unsuccessful today, he mused. Harry was returning the afternoon of Boxing Day, so Draco wouldn't be able to take advantage of the after-Christmas sales, but if worse really came to worst, he could always order something online and simply say it was taking longer to ship than he had anticipated.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him to a standstill. For a brief moment, he worried that something had gone wrong with Harry's train, forcing him to return. He panicked, though it didn't show on his expression - Harry could not be allowed to realize Draco had forgotten to get him a present.

When he turned around, an easy smile and a white lie about wanting to see a film already graced his lips. But when he saw the person holding him, his smile fell, and his blood ran cold.

"Did you think you could run forever?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking of abandoning this story due to the lack of response... If you'd like me to finish this story, please leave a comment, even if it's just a few words. I would appreciate it immensely.

Though he hadn't had much practice with it lately, Draco immediately schooled his expression into one of frosty disdain. "Yaxley," he said coolly, eyeing the other man with suspicion. The two regarded each other for a long moment as passersby continued to jostle past them, oblivious to the silent tension rising in their midst.

When it became clear Yaxley was going to neither break the silence nor release Draco from his grip, Draco sneered and did both himself. "If you want to talk, we certainly won't do it here," he said, injecting as much authority as he could muster into his voice. He turned sharply on his heel and stalked away.

He didn't bother looking back to see if Yaxley was following him. The man may have been two decades Draco's senior, but as Lucius Malfoy's son and heir, Draco enjoyed a position of authority second only to Lucius himself. Despite having left in the manner he had, Draco's command still held.

He led Yaxley to a park he had come to with Harry just a week ago, wincing as he noticed the easy familiarity with which Yaxley navigated through what should have been an unfamiliar location. This, combined with how easily Yaxley had found Draco in the crowd before, left no doubt in Draco's mind that Yaxley or one of his associates had been tailing Draco for days now. Aside from raising questions as to whether Harry was also being followed and why Draco hadn't noticed earlier, the knowledge left a bitter taste in Draco's mouth. How many intimate moments between him and Harry had Yaxley been a witness to?

Shaking the disquiet from his mind, Draco trudged through the snow until he reached a small copse of trees at the far end of the grassy field that made up most of the park. Bare though they were, the trees were deceptively secluded, serving Draco's purpose perfectly. Despite the lack of potential onlookers in the park, Draco wanted every ounce of privacy he could get.

Draco heard Yaxley shoulder through the trees and waited for the older man to stop moving before he spoke. "Why are you here?" he asked, his back to Yaxley. He squared his shoulders and drew himself to his full height, drawing on every lesson his father had given him on portraying authority to disguise his horror behind a stony facade.

"Master Lucius has sent me to bring you home," Yaxley drawled. Even without looking, Draco knew the man was smirking. Draco scowled reflexively in response. Thankfully, the irritation gave Draco an outlet for the emotional turmoil he was struggling with. Focusing entirely on the ire Yaxley inspired within him, Draco let his anger grow until he trembled with the effort of keeping his rage contained.

He turned to face Yaxley, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. "Even if Father was feeling uncharacteristically merciful, he would never have sent a subordinate to escort me home," Draco said dismissively. "He wouldn't have trusted anyone else enough. So tell me why you're really here, and don't lie to me." He bit the last phrase out through clenched teeth, not bothering to hide his contempt for Yaxley.

To his increasing annoyance, Yaxley simply shrugged. "I would not speak of trust if I were you, boy. Perhaps Master Lucius intends to remind you of your position - or lack of it, I should say. He did not deign to come collect you himself; surely you understand the implications of such an act?" A smug smirk continued twisting his features, and his expression made it clear that he thought he had the upper hand. An unspoken _He doesn’t care for you any longer_ hung in the air.

A knot of horror supplanted the anger Draco felt, growing more potent with each second. But Draco didn't let his uneasiness break through his facade, focusing instead on regaining control of the confrontation. "You grow bolder in the absence of my father," he noted coldly. "As though you forget that I, too, am a Malfoy." The reminder cowed Yaxley somewhat. At the very least, he stopped smirking, which Draco counted as a small victory. He let his words hang between them for another minute. "Tell me, then, why Father believes I will change my mind. Tell me why he cares so much to send anyone at all, or why I would come with you when I have made my feelings clear."

"Far be it from me to divine a Malfoy's intentions," Yaxley said primly, his sudden subservience a mocking contrast to his previous brazenness. His lip curled then as he made his scorn for Draco known, and Draco's anger returned tenfold. "Feel lucky that you are being offered another chance to begin with, instead of asking such insolent questions. Mistress Narcissa fought hard to grant you pardon, though Master Lucius asserted, rightly so, that you did not deserve it. Do not let her efforts go to waste."

Draco choked back a distressed cry at the thought that his mother had interfered on his behalf. He swallowed against the lump that had suddenly taken up residence in his throat, burning the back of his throat with each breath. Unlike Narcissa, Lucius was neither kind nor forgiving; Draco could not even imagine the lengths to which his mother must have gone in order to give him this second chance.

But he couldn't go back. Though he knew she would face harsh consequences for his disobedience, he would not allow Lucius to use Narcissa like a bargaining chip. It would only reveal that she was one of Draco's weaknesses, allowing her to be used again and again in the future.

Draco turned away dismissively. He was silent for a minute, more to make Yaxley squirm with discomfort than to organize his thoughts. "Such threats are ineffective," he said finally. He was being truthful. What should he have felt lucky for? For the chance to reenter a life of needless violence and pointless cruelty? He stopped that train of thought, bile rising in his throat and threatening to spill over. Memories rushed unbidden to the forefront of his mind, as they had been doing ever since he had seen Yaxley, and he pushed them away to the best of his ability.

Draco took a breath to calm himself, glad that he had positioned himself so that Yaxley couldn't see how shaken he was. He needed to convince Yaxley of his conviction if he wanted to keep the upper hand in this already-tenuous conversation. "I don't owe you any justifications, Yaxley," Draco said. "Tell Father to come collect me himself, if he truly desires me to return. He must be losing his touch if he thinks I'll view this treatment as anything but an insult."

When Yaxley spoke next, his voice was cold enough to send shivers racing down Draco's spine. "You have a duty to the Death Eaters," he said. "You took the Mark. Do not forget the commitment you made."

Instinctively, Draco wrapped his hand around the tattoo, clenching his fingers until his nails dug into his skin. He was certain he could feel a bruise already blossoming, but he welcomed it with a sick sort of pleasure. He deserved it. If he could take back every ounce of pain he had caused another person, he would do so without hesitation. "And I regret taking it every day." Draco glanced over his shoulder to look Yaxley in the eyes. "I'm finished, Yaxley. I'm not one of you anymore. I won't be coerced into doing this kind of dirty work again." He stalked away before Yaxley could reply, shoulders squared and strides long.

As he crunched through the snow, Draco felt his head droop with the weight of the thoughts buzzing through his mind. He had been so certain that he had left his past on the other side of a closing set of train doors, stranded on a platform in London while Draco fled in search of a clean start. He had managed to forget, somehow, that a life such as his was not so easily abandoned, and that the severing of those ties would leave behind a tangled web Draco would be unable to escape.

He put two underground transfers and several kilometers between himself and Yaxley before he felt safe enough to give release to the emotions warring within him. He hunched in on himself, holding his head in his hands as violent shudders ripped through his body. Though he felt his eyes water, he angrily rubbed at them until the tears disappeared, unwilling to express that much vulnerability in public.

Thankfully, he made it back to the flat without incident. He collapsed into bed without caring that daylight still filtered in through the windows, exhaustion claiming him within seconds.

That was the night the nightmares started.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being slow in updating this fic! Real life has been an absolute mess and it's hard to find enough time and motivation to write more than a handful of words at a time. 
> 
> That said, I'm really excited about chapter 11! It'll be a little longer than usual, partially to make up for how slow I am and partially because that's just how the chapter is shaping up. I hope you'll stick around to read it!

_Harry stares at Draco with unconcealed disgust. "I can't stand you," he spits out. "How could I ever love something as filthy as you? You revolt me." That final sentence rings in Draco's ears, refusing to be silenced. He claps his hands over his ears to block out the noise, a flash of red streaking through his periphery as he does so._

_Trembling, Draco brings his hands to eye level. In the brief moment after he has uncovered his ears, he dimly registers that Harry's final vicious words have stopped echoing around him. Then he stops caring, because there is blood dripping in a steady stream from his hands, as fresh as though he had just liberated it from a living person._

_Draco screams. The blood won't stop dripping, won't stop staining his clothes, he’s standing in a pool of it now and it still won't stop flowing --_

Draco jolted awake, heart racing and sweat soaking through his clothes. He threw the covers off his body and rolled onto his side, outstretched hands groping blindly for the lamp. He finally managed to turn it on, and he examined his hands in the resulting light, fully expecting them to be soaked in the blood of innocents.

It was a welcome surprise to find them clean, if a little clammy. Draco heaved a sigh of relief. He collapsed back into bed without bothering to turn off the light. A quick glance at the clock resting next to the lamp told him it was just past 5:00 in the morning - too late to try to fall back asleep. Draco rubbed his eyes instead of dragging himself out of bed, trying to prolong the inevitable.

His hands stopped their movements a second later when Draco suddenly remembered that it was already Christmas Day and he hadn't managed to buy Harry a present. He briefly contemplated the merits of staying in bed all day and ignoring reality in the hope that it would cease to exist, but the fragments of the previous night's nightmare that still danced behind his eyelids spurred him into action.

Draco felt like he was in hell for the rest of the day. Every sudden or loud noise sent a jolt of paranoia through his body. He had to force himself not to check over his shoulder every time he saw a shadow in his periphery. He took to avoiding his own reflection, knowing he would only find bloodshot eyes and gaunt skin staring back at him if he cared to look. He turned the television on briefly, hoping the Christmas spirit would take his mind off his worries, but he turned it off just moments later when the bright cheeriness and blinding optimism was too jarring for the unease that still lingered in his mind. Somewhere in between, he managed to send Harry a text saying “Happy Christmas!”, the cheery words at complete odds with how Draco really felt.

He fared even worse that night. The nightmares increased in intensity, waking him intermittently throughout the night. When he finally crawled out of bed long after the sun had already risen, he felt as though he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Even worse, Harry had said he would be back by noon today, barely giving Draco time to compose himself and present an unaffected front.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that Harry could not know about Yaxley's visit.

There was no doubt Yaxley had returned to London to report to Lucius about his meeting with Draco, and Draco knew Lucius would not let Draco's disobedience remain unpunished. At best, Lucius might send a team to retrieve Draco, by force if necessary. But Draco could handle that with ease; he'd practically grown up in the gang, and he'd learned early on how to hold his own against nearly any opponent. Unfortunately, Lucius probably knew that as well, which meant it was unlikely he would leave Draco's retrieval to chance and subordinates once again.

If Draco had to guess, he would say Lucius would come to fetch Draco himself, especially once he learned about how Draco had challenged him when speaking to Yaxley. And if Lucius came to get Draco, there was no doubt he would try to use Harry as leverage to convince Draco to return to London. That thought scared Draco more than anything; he couldn't let Harry get caught in the crossfire of Draco's mistakes.

On some level, Draco knew it was unfair to keep Harry in the dark about this, especially if he might be at risk because of it. But warning Harry about this meant telling Harry about his past, and the thought made Draco sick to his stomach. He couldn't imagine Harry would want anything to do with him after finding out about the crimes Draco had committed. His nightmares had made it abundantly clear that Draco had done too much harm to deserve the kind of love and support he was receiving from Harry now, even if he was past all that now.

If he drove Harry away now, he would never be able to protect him. He needed to be able to keep Harry safe from whatever Lucius might be planning, and he couldn't do that if Harry kept him at arm's length out of disgust, as he inevitably would once Draco revealed the truth about his past. The best thing for Draco to do right now was to keep this to himself until he could fix the situation.

And he would fix this somehow. Despite his best intentions, he had fallen hard for Harry, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing him so soon after experiencing what true freedom was like.

He received a text from Harry a half hour before noon, letting him know that Harry would be back soon. It gave Draco enough time to freshen up and plaster a smile on his face, though he knew he couldn’t do anything to hide the exhaustion painted across his expression.

The doorknob rattled then, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. The door opened a moment later and Harry stepped through, gently kicking the door shut behind him. “I’m back,” he called unnecessarily. Draco stepped into the room to greet him and found himself immediately pulled into a tight embrace.

“Yes, I missed you, too,” Draco teased, though he could tell his voice sounded flat.

Harry apparently thought so as well, since he pulled back and frowned at Draco. He seemed to take in Draco’s tired eyes and halfhearted smile for the first time, and his frown deepened. “What happened? Are you alright?” he asked.

Draco’s gaze skittered away from Harry’s. “I didn’t get you anything,” he said reluctantly. At least it wasn’t a lie, so much as it just wasn’t the full truth.

Harry chuckled. “Waiting for the post-Christmas sales?” he joked. “Wish I’d thought to do that.” The statement coaxed a quiet laugh from Draco. He took a moment to silently appreciate the fact that Harry was giving him an out.

“I was going to pop out and pick something up before you came back, but I ended up sleeping in,” Draco said with the appropriate amount of chagrin.

Harry tsked dismissively. “We can go out together. This way you know you’re getting me something I’ll like, and I’ll be able to guilt you into spending an exorbitant amount of money to make up for it.” His eyes brightened then. “Did you open your gift?”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” Draco said. It was another lie; he’d simply forgotten in the aftermath of Yaxley’s visit.

Harry grinned. “Fantastic. I’ll get to see your reaction firsthand,” he said, genuine excitement coloring his voice. His happiness was infectious and Draco couldn’t help smiling a little in response. He didn’t resist as Harry pulled him to their eyesore of a tree, where a single poorly-wrapped package was nestled beneath the cheap plastic branches. “We should put some fake presents under the tree next year,” Harry mused even as he sank to the ground, dragging Draco down with him, and shoved the present into his hands.

Draco was still for a moment, taken aback by Harry’s easy assumption that they would be spending next Christmas together. A pang of guilt shot through him. Harry had no reason to be aware of the complications Draco would soon be facing, nor would Draco let him find out. That conviction spurred him into action again, and he carefully unwrapped the package in his hands.

As the last of the gift wrap fell away, Draco found himself holding an unbelievably soft, emerald green scarf in his hands. The material was obviously high-end, and the color was one that brought out Draco’s eyes. A subtle shimmer was woven into the scarf, lending it a certain allure that Draco couldn’t quite explain.

“It’s beautiful,” Draco whispered in awe. He carefully unfolded the scarf to see it in its entirety before looping it around his neck. The scarf was warm as well as enthralling, and Draco found himself duly impressed.

“You like it, then?” Harry asked eagerly. The question was unnecessary, in Draco’s opinion. He had made it quite clear how he felt about the gift. Still, Harry looked expectant, and Draco found he didn’t mind assuaging Harry’s ill-founded insecurities.

“I love it,” he said sincerely. Harry’s answering smile left Draco breathless.

They considered hitting up the post-Christmas sales that afternoon before the shelves were ravaged by determined shoppers, but Harry claimed he was too tired and cold from having just returned. They ordered takeout and cuddled up on the couch instead, putting on some comedy on Netflix that had them both in stitches. They relocated to the bedroom when it started to grow dark, where they engaged in a heated makeout session. By the time they fell asleep entangled in each others’ arms, Draco had managed to forget about both Yaxley’s visit and his nightmares. He felt more lighthearted than he had in days.

The contentment lasted right up until the moment he woke up gasping for breath, phantom blood painting his hands and Harry’s concerned voice breaching his racing mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter got...kind of out of hand, lol. It also took me 6 months to write. I'm really sorry for the delay, and I hope the length of this chapter makes up for it!
> 
> I'd also like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos on this fic. I appreciate you immensely; I can't believe there are still people out there interested in this dumb story haha.

“Draco?” Harry asked frantically, his voice loud, as though he’d tried to catch Draco’s attention several times already.

It took Draco a moment to reply, preoccupied as he was with his speeding pulse and debilitating fear. He closed his eyes rather than look at Harry, afraid that he would see the disgusted Harry from his dreams instead of his caring boyfriend. “Just a nightmare,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, the sound cutting harshly through the quiet night.

He felt the bed dip as Harry stood up, and he had to suppress a cry when he heard Harry leave the room. Though the details of his nightmare were already fading from his memory, he could still vividly remember the utter contempt on Harry’s face as he had walked away from Draco in the dream. For a split second, Draco despaired that the real Harry had had enough as well and was finally leaving.

Draco knew it was an absurd thought the moment he had it. Harry was completely unaware of how deeply Draco’s world had been shaken just days before, nor did his behavior suggest he had grown tired of Draco. But the fear lingered in the forefront of Draco’s mind until the moment Harry returned to the room and sat back down on the bed.

“Draco, open your eyes,” Harry coaxed. Draco realized with a start that his eyes had been clenched tightly shut ever since he’d woken up. He pried them apart with some effort, blinking rapidly to bring the dark interior of the room into focus. Once his vision stopped swimming, he saw that Harry was holding a glass of water towards him. He took it gratefully.

Harry was quiet while Draco drank, but he seemed to have something on his mind. He wouldn’t meet Draco’s eyes. Instead his gaze seemed fixed on Draco’s left arm. Out of habit, Draco made sure the tattoo was still covered, coloring slightly in embarrassment moments later when he realized Harry had already seen it.

“Is it because you showed me your tattoo?” Harry asked at length.

Instinctively, Draco pulled at the hem of his sleeve, even as he said, “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just a nightmare, I promise.” He turned to look Harry in the eyes, attempting to infuse as much sincerity into his voice as he could.

Harry chewed nervously on his lip. “It seemed like there was more behind it,” he said. “You were really thrashing around.”

Draco was shaking his head before Harry had even finished speaking. “It was nothing,” he said. “Just a bad dream. Certainly you’ve had those, too?”

Harry still didn’t seem satisfied, but thankfully he let the matter drop. Instead, he took the now-empty glass from Draco’s hands and placed it gently on the side table, before wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling him back down to the mattress. He curled around Draco tightly, the warmth of his chest burning Draco’s back even through the layers of clothing that separated them. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow,” Harry murmured, already falling back asleep.

Draco, however, remained awake for hours after that, too caught up in his own frantic thoughts. He wondered if the sleeplessness and its inevitable resultant exhaustion were better or worse than dreaming, night after night, of Harry slipping through his grasp. He was no closer to an answer when the sun began peeking through the window, and he chose to extricate himself from Harry’s grip rather than grapple with the question any longer.

Despite Draco’s best efforts, Harry’s return sent Draco’s paranoia skyrocketing. There was no telling when or where Lucius would strike, nor how or even if he would target Harry. It was Draco’s responsibility to make sure Harry didn’t get caught in the crossfire of Draco’s mistakes.

As a result, Draco made sure to keep an eye on Harry as much as he could, and he made a concerted effort to keep both Harry and himself out of situations where they could be targeted. It was an easy task. After all, he knew how Lucius worked nearly as well as Lucius did; in turn, he knew how to preemptively counteract his father’s potential attacks.

For the most part, their lives returned to normal. Draco hadn’t survived this long without picking up some ability to act, and he put those skills to good use. When the slightest noise made him jump, he passed his fright off as having seen a mouse or a cockroach. When Draco wanted to reassure himself that Harry was still alive and safe, he manhandled his boyfriend into a lengthy Netflix marathon and buried them both under layers of blankets.

The one thing he couldn’t control, however, was the nightmares, and soon Draco’s reassurances weren’t enough for Harry. The brunette turned the light on and sat up after the sixth night Draco had woken them both up, a serious look settling in his green eyes. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Draco,” Harry asked, voice tinged with desperation. “I’m your boyfriend, let me help you. I care about you, and I’m worried. Please.”

Draco’s future, Harry’s happiness, the future of their relationship—it all seemed to come down to how Draco responded to Harry’s plea. He could tell the truth, or a censored version of it anyway, and take a leap of faith. In doing so, he would be leaving himself vulnerable in a way he never had before.

Or he could lie, and protect himself, even if it meant losing Harry in the process.

In the end, Draco was little more than a self-serving creature of caution. So he pasted a smile on his face, forced his body to relax, and said, “It’s just a few nightmares. I’m sure they’ll go away soon.”

It was spectacular how things fell apart after that.

Draco relegated himself to the couch after the ninth consecutive night of jerking awake in a cold sweat. He told Harry it was because he didn’t want to disturb Harry’s sleep in addition to his own, and this was true to an extent. More importantly, however, Draco didn’t want to give Harry a chance to figure out what he was dreaming about, whether by hearing Draco cry out in his sleep or by asking him questions when he was still too incoherent after waking up to think about what he was saying.

The nightmares only grew worse. The Harry in his dreams stopped accusing Draco of the blood on his hands and started painting them instead. Night after night, Draco woke up convinced Harry was dead, that Harry had died by his hand. He would sneak into Harry’s bedroom and simply sit by his bedside for an hour or more, reassuring himself that Harry was still alive and unaffected by Draco’s crimes.

He withdrew further into himself, unwilling to give Harry any indication of just what was inspiring such terror in him. When Harry snuck into the shower with him in the mornings, wrapping his arms lazily around Draco’s waist, Draco shrugged him off under pretense of not being able to move and steadfastly ignored the hurt expression Harry bore as a result. When Harry brought back takeout from Draco’s favorite Chinese place, Draco couldn’t taste it through the guilt and fear clogging his throat. He barely remembered to thank Harry for the kind gesture.

One night, Harry pressed Draco to the bed, peppering kisses down his throat, and Draco instinctively tucked his sleeves tightly into the balls of his fists to avoid losing his shirt. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach a visual reminder of how badly he had messed up.

Harry caught on easily, and he pulled back to look at Draco with furrowed brows and concern in his eyes. "Did I go too fast?" he asked. Nothing but sincerity colored his tone, and Draco felt even worse knowing that Harry was likely blaming himself for Draco's regression to his previous ways.

"I'm sorry," he said in lieu of an explanation. He reached up to kiss Harry on the nose, the cheeks, anywhere he could reach. Simultaneously, he pushed Harry's shirt up until Harry lifted his arms so Draco could take it off entirely. "You're fine, I'm sorry." He caught Harry's lips in a soft kiss, and then another, and another, and soon it didn't matter that he was still fully clothed while Harry was down to his boxers.

When they finally curled into each other an hour later, drowsiness slowly creeping upon them, Draco carefully pulled away from Harry to make his way to the couch. He had barely gone a step before Harry caught his wrist to pull him back.

“Stay,” he murmured softly.

“At least one of us should get enough sleep,” Draco replied, just as quietly. The words tasted bitter in his mouth. He tried for a smile, but he could tell that Harry wasn’t buying it anymore. Harry was more awake now, his eyes narrowed and calculating, trying to understand what Draco wasn’t telling him. Draco ignored all that and leaned in for one last kiss before hurrying away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry’s gaze bore into his back as he closed the door behind himself.

The start of term crept up on them without a warning. Draco met it with a sense of relief. Soon, he would be able to move back into his dorm room, away from Harry’s disappointment and concern. He would be able to confront his father on his own terms, without worrying about keeping Harry in the dark. For a brief moment, he felt guilty that he was looking forward to leaving Harry, but he pushed the guilt aside with the knowledge that he could keep Harry safe this way.

Harry didn’t approach the end of break with the same relief, though. He caught Draco when Draco was in the middle of packing up his things, just days before Draco could move out. “We need to talk,” he said, arms crossed and shoulders tensed.

Draco froze. He kept his eyes trained on his duffel. He had hoped he would be able to make it to the start of term before being confronted by Harry, but it seemed he had hoped for too much. “Alright.”

Harry released a short, explosive breath, and Draco flinched instinctively at the abrupt sound in their otherwise quiet flat. It was a subtle action, a slight tensing of his already rigid body, but he knew Harry had noticed. After a moment of silence, Harry turned and made his way into the living room, and Draco forced himself to follow. He sat on the opposite end of the couch from Harry, leaving over a foot of distance between them. His posture was stiff, his hands clasped firmly in his lap. He waited for Harry to speak.

“Draco,” Harry said. He swallowed, started again. “Draco, I know there’s something you aren’t telling me. I know something happened while I was gone. You haven’t been yourself. You’re jumpy and scared, and you’re having nightmares every night that make you scream and refuse to sleep in the same room as me. You won’t even leave the flat unless I force you. What’s going on, Draco? Let me help you, _please_.”

Draco glanced at Harry but looked away immediately, unable to handle the helplessness etched on Harry’s face. “It’s nothing. I’ll be okay,” he said resolutely.

“But you aren’t okay now!” Harry exclaimed, voice rising in volume. “Why are you hiding this from me? Why don’t you trust me?”

Draco closed his eyes. It was easier than trying to meet Harry’s gaze without feeling guilty. He clenched the fingers of his right hand around his left arm, his grip so tight that he knew he’d find bruises there in the morning. It was what he deserved, he supposed. “I do trust you,” he said, injecting as much sincerity into his voice as he could. “I trust you, but I can’t involve you in this. I’m telling you things will be okay. Don’t you trust _me_?”

Far from being placated, Harry scoffed in disbelief. “You’re not exactly giving me much reason to trust you right now,” he pointed out. “You’re refusing to tell me anything. The way you’ve been acting over the last couple weeks is enough to tell me that things won’t be okay, not anytime soon.” He fell silent for a moment, before continuing with a short laugh, “I guess I should have seen this coming. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, you can tell me.”

Draco’s eyes snapped open at that, and he turned to look at Harry head-on. “Is that really what you think is going on?” he asked, hardly able to believe what he’d just heard.

“What else am I supposed to think?” Harry argued. His hands were curled into fists by his sides and he was leaning subconsciously towards Draco. “You don’t want to go out with me anywhere, you won’t spend time with me of your own free will, you won’t even trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you! Maybe you’re scared of how serious this is becoming, maybe you’re afraid of being gay, I don’t know. But whatever it is, don’t try to spare my feelings by lying to me. I at least deserve your honesty.”

Draco reeled. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He had never wanted Harry to feel as though Draco didn’t care for him. Draco cared for him more than he had ever cared for any other person; that was why he’d kept Harry in the dark about his past, his family, his Mark.

He could weigh his options, but he already knew there was only one course of action he could take. Harry’s safety and wellbeing came before Draco’s emotions. Even now, in the face of Harry’s anger and upset, Draco couldn’t tell him about the Death Eaters. So instead, he buried his inner turmoil and fracturing confidence under a stony façade, and he did what he’d been born and raised to do: he attacked Harry’s weaknesses.

“Afraid of being gay? It’s true that I don’t want all and sundry to know my sexual orientation, but I’m not the person who becomes catatonic from being called a fag!” he retorted. Harry recoiled in shock, but Draco did his best to ignore him. “You want to talk about trust? You’re expecting an awful lot of it from me without giving me any in return. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“That was uncalled for,” Harry said lowly. “I’ve been trying my best. You know that. It’s not like I’m asking you for something unreasonable. I just want to know why you’re so scared, Draco. Why won’t you tell me?”

Draco scoffed and pushed himself off the couch, preparing to return to the bedroom. “I’m not asking for something unreasonable, either,” he said. “Just some time, and some trust. You can give me that much.”

“I don’t know that I can,” Harry replied. “I don’t know that I can keep turning a blind eye when you’re being hurt like this. But more than that, I don’t know that I can stay in this relationship, if you won’t let me into your life, or past your walls.”

Draco paused, his hands balling into fists by his sides. “Are you breaking up with me, then?” he whispered, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“Not yet,” Harry said after a moment. “I’ll let you have the time you want. But you’re running out of chances, Draco.”


End file.
